


Ignorance

by FAHCHaus



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: FAHC, Fake AH Crew, Gavin is good at three things, Hacking, M/M, Manipulating, and sex, not feelings tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 20:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10048946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FAHCHaus/pseuds/FAHCHaus
Summary: Gavin really likes MichaelThe problem? Gavin really really likes Michael





	

* * *

It started out as all Gavin’s infatuations had. A dream, a nice dream, a very nice dream with Michael. And Him. Together, and he knew why it happened too. This last heist, him and Michael were together and there was one guy. Michael killed him with his bare hands, snapped his neck, the muscles in his arms rippling, that satisfied little smirk when the bones broke, oh lord it was a spectacle. He got all hot under the collar just watching. But whatever right, he'd had fantasies about many men and women. None of them had those lovely curls, those amber in sunlight eyes, the freckles sprayed across the bridge of his nose, those dimples, and that  _ body… _

But it was just a crush. Nothing serious, He was Gavin Free, the Golden Boy did not  _ do  _ serious. Too boring, too easy to get held down, too easy to get attached. But he couldn't help lying awake at nights, fantasising. A night under the stars on the top of Mt. Chiliad, things like that. Nauseatingly domestic. He writes it off as an impossibility. A Non-starter, can't happen, will never happen, and he can never tell Michael because they might be bois, they might be best friends but, no, no it just can't happen. Period dot.

And yet there moments continue happening, the sunshine filtering through the windows of the penthouse directly into Michael's hair where it shines like something holy, which is odd consider their day job. The way his eyes sparkle when he’s staring into an explosion. His dimples when he’s smiling, laughing, at gavin, _with_ gavin, with Gavin more and more often…

When Gavin’s heart starts fluttering at the sight there's this thin fissure of alarm that goes off in his chest. But it's still fine. Michael never needs to find out, Gavin's hidden many an incriminating secret before, if it's his own then fine. No sense burdening Michael with silly useless feelings (they aren't even that serious anyway) Gavin knows beyond a shadow of so many doubts Michael just cant return.

He’s the Golden Boy, his job is hiding things. Secrets, people's secrets, secret files and his feelings. It’s less hard than he thought it would be. He is a professional after all.

And yet, no matter how hard he tries to remain detached, there's just something about Michael, his gruff stupid smug little face, his infectious laugh, his kindness, that just tears down wall after wall (rather like Michael (and Ryan) with most physical objects in his life) until Gavin isn't quite sure what'll happen the next time they see each other. It’ll be absolutely, positively catastrophic he knows, at least he  _ thinks _ he knows but…

And it all comes to a head one night.  _ That _ night. Many years before on that night back home so to speak, Gav got a visit from a man in a suit, delivering the worst possible news he could ever hear. That his best friend, That Dan... Dan was...was  **_dead_ ** . Gone, poof. In a hail of fire, B was just...no more. And it was always,  _ always _ easier to just drink away all the thoughts and feelings that come on that day, drink away the blinding grief, the hard painful feelings and the softer ones, the knife-sharp longing and the knowledge that he has a container of blueberries, Dan's favorite, in his fridge. Gavin, he had an apartment in downtown los Santos, quiet, tucked out of the way from back when he didn't have a crew  _ or  _ Dan and it was routine. He liked routines. Every year today he'd retreat there and mope around, get absolutely plastered and kinda sorta hope he didn't die himself of alcohol poisoning, He’d tell geoff where he was going of course and Geoff would nod all worried and knowing and send him off,

Dan had gave him his dogtags, said he’d tell anyone that asked that he lost them and he’d request a new pair later and  _ lucky _ duck Gav was to get this one last memento from B before his untimely death by firebomb. He has something to hold at 3 am while he's wailing his heartache out at the walls of his cramped little apartment. You never know how used you are to the space of the penthouse until you aren't in it, but he wasn't planning on staying here anyway, recover from the crippling hangover and he was  _ outta _ here. But, it was late, very, around 4 or so and all of a sudden there's a knock at the door, a knock at 4. Gavin stared at the door, uncomprehendingly for long enough to have the knock sound again, but thankfully(?) something in his mullered brain makes him get up and go to the door, unlock it without a care in the word like he isn't Gavin Free of the Fake AH Crew and he doesn't have enemies out the ass waiting in the wings to send Geoff his head. But it's not a mugger with a gun, or a rival gang member with a shiv, it's Michael, with his lively mussed curls and the expressive, worried look in his amber eyes, dressed in his favorite jacket, a grey t-shirt and jeans. Casually, like hes gonna ask Gav to go on a bev run with him.

“Hey.” Michael says, awkwardly, like he's suddenly regretting just...everything. Standing here, existing on this spatial plane. He has plenty of time to run for the hills, because it takes a while for Gavin’s booze-addled brain to formulate a response but when he does it's real zinger. “Hey.” and they descended into that special circle of hell where homicidally awkward silence resides.

Michael's eyes dart past Gav, it's not hard he isn't big, to the copious amounts of  booze on Gavin's coffee table and he makes a face, less angry and more something akin to worry he supposes, which confuses Gavin for a second,  _ why the face boi, you've seen Geoff slam way more back in way less time _ but a split second later Michael is pushing his way onto Gavin's apartment, or he tries, Gavin doesn't let him get far though and Michael seems oddly surprised Gavin, tiny little Gavin, can stop a man as strong as he from entering. “So this is what you do here all day today.” He says, he sounds angry but he isn't, not really, Gavin knows the sound of that and this is different, more somber, more pitying.

“What are you doing here?” Gavin asks sharply. He  _ hates  _ pity, pity won't let him give the dog tags back to their proper owner. “Keeping you company boi. I haven't seen you all day.” Michael says, eyes wide, tone innocent. Contrived.

_ No _ . “No,” Gavin says, stammers over his drunk tongue  “You can't be here, get, leave Michael I-”

“-Gavin, buddy i-” Michael tries to interject.

“-Get  **_out_ ** .” Gavin's voice comes out ugly, dark and mad and all the emotions he’s been trying to drink away being tossed at lovely little Michael. Gav winces, waits for Michael to get upset, start yelling and pick a fight and leave _ - _

-“I will, if you really want me too, not gonna tell you how to fucking grieve but Gavin I,” Michael begins, awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “just, Geoff told me the gist of...today and I don't want to leave you alone and miserable here, ok? You, like, you’re my boi and I wanna fucking be there for you goddamnit. I’ll sit out here if you want, I don't care just...I’m here, alright, for support and shit. If you want.”

And Gavin almost kisses him right then and there. But Gavin, for some, undecipherable reason, just steps back and lets Michael in proper, gets him a beer. “Dan liked explosives too, grenade and that.” He says. Doesn't want too, tries to stop it, but the alcohol and the urge to say something got in a knife fight and guess who lost?

Michael nods, sits down on the couch. “Really? Cool. Good taste.”

Gavin flops down besides him. “Didn't look a thing like you though. All gruff an’ scruffy and stuff. Black hair, stubble. taller, but big like you, muscled like you. Cute, really cute like you. But he was a calm bloke, nothin’ made him mad.”

This turns into a many hour's long tirade about him, about B. All of it, everything Gavin adored about him which was a lot, everything he hated which was much less, even their brief stint as SMG which was less still, and Gavin hadn't told  _ anyone _ but his bosses about his pre-criminal criminal days with Dan, his partner in crime and everything else. Michael sat through it all, offering little comments here and there, hums and haws. Sometime after the 3rd beer, since Michael showed up mind, Michael put the kibosh on the alcohol, took it from Gavin's hands despite his protests. Stands over Gavin, gentle and his fingers brush across Gavin's cheek and his eyes are dark as chocolate and just as sweet. “You need to slow down boi, drinking away the pain is all well and fucking good until it kicks your ass tomorrow.” Gavin wants to kiss him.

Gavin kisses him. To Michael’s credit, he pulls away immediately, sputtering in a way that maybe shouldn’t be quite as adorable as it is. “You, You are  _ drunk _ , you are drunk as fuck boi.” He stammers, blushing to the roots of his hair.

And Gavin doesn't have a response for that, because it's a fair statement, he  _ is _ drunk. But he kissed Michael, and drunk or not, it was  _ so _ very nice. “Later then. When I'm sober.” He says eventually. And Michael goes redder somehow but nods. Gavin watches that gleefully. Michael blushes and all his lovely freckles stand out. Michael scowls at him for smiling.

The rest of the night is a blur,, tapering out to nothing after  while and then the next thing Gavin knows, he’s on his couch, he has a small dying animal in his mouth, a hangover that rivals if not completely fucking destroys most of the hacking-related migraines he gets, a roiling stomach, and a leg underneath him. A very fit leg, attached to a...sleeping Michael Jones.

If he weren't so nauseous he’d have sprung up and started yelling, but he threw up on Michael once and he’d like to keep his other bullock thanks.  “What are you doing on my couch?” He asks, has to keep his voice calm thanks to the hangover.

Michael jerks awake, takes one look at Gavin's face and sends Gav this crooked smile that makes his heart stop, says, “Bet you feel like fucking shit eh boi? I told you to cut back but no fuck it, dont listen to Michael.”

Gavin’s recollection of last night is nothing. Nothing, a blank slate, but he knows what day it  _ was  _ and if Michael was here then… “What did I do last night?” To which Michael goes bright red and refuses to meet Gavin’s eye. “Nothing.” To which Gavin really starts panicking. “Michael, Michael I'm serious what did I  _ do _ , what did I  **tell** you, god what was I  **_thinking,_ ** -”

“-It was nothing. Seriously. You just told me stuff about Dan.” Between the INTENSE relief that he hadn't told michael about his eh… ‘infatuation’ and the slight displeasure at digging up that old grave right in front of Michael meant Gavin very nearly ignored the fact that Michael was obviously hiding something. He wouldn't meet Gavin's eyes, that or he’d be staring at Gavin's lips for long, disquieting seconds. Oddly.

After that, he starts remembering more, bits and pieces. Does  _ Not _ mention it to michael later, and Michael says nary a word to him. But something...changes. In Their relationship, such as it were. Gavin finds himself spending even more time with Michael, closer to Michael, sharing so much more meaningful moments with him, laughs and jokes and tender moments, secrets, Michael  _ confides _ in him. It's during a bev session, just him and Michael, where Michael laughs that adorable, captivating laugh of his, throws his arm around Gavin's shoulder and drags him in for a warm hug and when Michael turns to look Gavin in the eye their noses are touching and Michael… Michael _ kisses  _ him,  _ he  _ kisses  **Gavin** , and neither of them are drunk enough to just brush it off, and it's like fireworks and thunderstorms and like his heart stopped dead in his chest, like every good thing in the world from money to clothes to adrenaline highs was shoved down his throat, that Gavin realizes… He's in  _ love. _

The thought, like a bucket of ice water dumped down his collar, shocks him out of his seat and out the door, having told Michael some pitiful see-through excuse. Meanwhile the word echoes in Gavin's head and heart and stomach like a snare drum, bouncing off his ribcage destroying his heart his lungs his stomach, _lovelovelove_ , he can't be in _love,_ he could have sworn down it was just infatuation, something routine, something minor that he could drink away or ignore or _hide_ but not _love,_ he doesn't **do** love, he **_can't_** do love, -he tried and failed and Dan's _gone-_ love requires a moderately functioning human being and that might be Michael but it sure as shit isn't Gavin. Look at him, he's tearing through the streets of downtown Los Santos because he got kissed by the most brilliant boy in the world. The thought that he could be in love with Michael, the knowledge that he'd inevitably fuck it up and _lose_ Michael **_forever_** , made him want to puke. Or maybe it was the 5 cosmopolitans. He leaned against some random building and heaved up all the bevs he bought and as such didn't hear Michael come up behind him until there was a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude, there was a trash can right by your feet.” Michael said, striving for jovial. Gavin didn't know what to do, or say in response and said nothing, leaning his suddenly pounding head against the brick. “So what am I that bad?” Michael joked again and Gavin just… He huffed a laugh. Gavin Free might not have known what to do but, the Golden Boy sure as hell might.

It was a simple plan, tried and true. Detach yourself emotionally and resort to raw sex appeal. Now, normally the intent was to seduce some random motherfucker for like, information, which he definitely was not attempting to do to Michael but he had no other plans. “No, of course not luv.” His best ‘alluring’ voice was somewhat ruined by all the previous vomiting but it still worked. He turned back to Michael with a blinding smile and hooded eyes. “You were wonderful, but you know me, booze makes me dramatic.” He said airily.

Michael nodded, “Shall we go home, if you're done puking everywhere?” “And end Bev night so soon?” Gavin pouted, batting his lashes.

“I'm pretty sure you don't need any more alcohol.”

Gavin hummed at that, settled closer to Michael, raking his eyes up and down. “Perhaps. What do I need then lovely Michael?” He leaned in close, bracketing Michael in between his arms “Another kiss perhaps?”

But Michael pushed him off. “What are you doing?” He demanded, didn't complain about the fact that he just puked which Gavin was expecting. Gavin feigned a hurt expression, even though he was more confused than anything. “I just want a kiss boi.”

“Why are you fucking  _ acting  _ like that, moron?!” Michael snapped. “I don't know what you mean boi.” Gavin said, stepped closer to Michael and took his hand. “Michael luv don't be mad at me, I-”

“-Gavin! What the fuck is wrong with you, why the fuck are you acting weird now?” Michael demanded, snatching his hand out of Gavin's grasp. “Five minutes ago you were fine and  _ real _ and shit and I'm sorry I kissed you without asking, but now you're…”

“-perfectly fine, Michael.” Gavin offered.

“No, you aren't. You're, it's like you're on a  _ job  _ right now.” It's those words that pierce right through Gavin's whole ruse and the look on his face must call him out because Michael points accusingly at him, outraged. “This is a  _ fucking  _ **_JOB_ ** to you??!”

and everything after that gets all white noise-like because wow, what Gavin was so dearly afraid of is playing out right in front of his eyes, and there's this sudden pressure in his chest driving out all breath and composure and Gavin is seconds away from bursting into tears when Michael stops ranting, looks hard at him. “When you kissed me at your apartment, you said ‘maybe later’ and I thought you fucking  _ wanted  _ to kiss me. I thought now would be a good ‘later’ and if it wasn't I'm  _ so _ sorry but you weren't doing this whole ‘Golden Boy’ act a minute ago. Why are you doing it now?”

And Gavin. He doesn't know what to say. His legendary tongue is struck dumb in his month. His face is an open book, he knows because Michael stares at it and says, a bit softer, “Why do you look so fucking scared?”

“Because I'm fucking this all up.” This stupid, damning sentence is out of his mouth before it can stop it, and it tears down the floodgates, “Because I like you and I'm terrified because I ruin everything I damn touch and the thought of losing you is bloody abhorrent but I can't be in love, a guy like me can't **be** in love, they'll only end up making you hate me and I'm terrified of commitment too because I'll drive you away and the best thing in my life will be all gone and I'll be all alone on my onesie  _ again _ just like after Dan, and-” Gavin claps his hands over his mouth before anything else can get out but it's too late. It's much, much too late. His eyes blur up with tears - _ tears, like he's still in primary school _ \- because he just, he doesn't, can't even name a reason why he's crying, he just  _ is _ and-

Michael takes his hand again. Wordlessly drags them off to his car and shoves him in the passenger's seat. The car ride is silent too, choking the will to live out of Gavin with every mile and he doesn't know where they're going because his eyes are still stupidly misty but he can feel the atmosphere change, feel his ears pop. Michael parks the car eventually, gets out into the  night sky studded with stars, drags Gavin out against his will and Gavin's waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for something, anything to happen so he can go home and forgot it all happened and drink himself into a stupor a la Geoff or maybe toss himself off the nearest bridge.

But Michael takes his hand, gently, and leads him to the center of the flat-topped peak of Mount Chiliad. The night is slightly cold, the stars twinkling bright and plentiful above the smog of the city and its so beautiful it only makes Gavin feel worse, and Michael says this

“So you're telling me the only reason we haven't gotten together is because we're both goddamn idiots?” and it's like Gavin's been struck dumb.

“You're telling me, “ Michael continues softly, intertwining their fingers “that because we were both too fucking chicken to tell each other ‘hey fuckwit, I really like you’ we had to go through  _ all _ this, all the months before this, with our heads up our asses? Fucking Goddamnit boi, why are we so  _ bad _ at this.”

Finally Gavin finds his tongue. In part, at least. “What?”

Michael smiled at him, flashed those dimples and Gavin melts right there. “Well I'm not you so I'm not gonna write a novel here but I think I'm in love with you boi.” And Gavin gaped at him speechless, only aware of Michael's warm hand in his, hell he could have floated off the mountain and he wouldn't have known, lucky for him Michael's grin grew wider. “Ok, OK fine, how about this. If you feel the same way, then when I kiss you again in a second, don't throw up.”

And Michael kissed him, softly, sweetly. And Gavin didn't feel so much as an inkling of nausea. All he could feel was this incredible, warm feeling in him. _Love_ , They called it.

Michael pulled back, smiling as Gavin chased the kiss. “I love you, that settled it.”

And Gavin swallowed hard, gathered all his courage, threw caution to the damn winds. “I love you too.”


End file.
